


Ask the Gods to Pull Down the Sky

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: “It’s actually not a curse.” And with that Sam popped up from his seat. Dean watched as he walked over to one of the bookshelves and the motherfucker pulled down a book and flipped it immediately to the page he was looking for. He smiled as he walked back to the table and sat down. “There’s… there’s actually a legend that I read about somewhere. It has to deal with soulmates. According to the legend, one person writes on the back of their hand and their soulmate, they see it too. It looks like you have a soulmate, Dean.”





	Ask the Gods to Pull Down the Sky

It was weird. No, that’s an understatement. It was freaky and so concerning when all of the sudden, lines started to appear on the back of Dean’s hand out of nowhere. Letters started to form words that sprawled across his skin and Dean didn’t know where they were coming from. He didn’t have a pen anywhere in sight besides the one that Sam was currently writing with… across the table, nowhere near Dean’s hand.

But there he was, sitting at the table in the library and fucking words were starting to ink his skin.

“Sam…” His voice cracked. The last thing that he wanted to have happen was to be possessed by something. Not after finally getting rid of everything that corrupted in his body. He no longer had the Mark of Cain, he wasn’t a demon. He was human and he was normal for the time being. The last thing he wanted was to have some spell cast on him that rendered him helpless and despite the fact that the words that were appearing on his hand was written in english and not some ancient language, it still worried him. “Sammy?”

Sam looked up from the book that he was currently taking notes from, his brow furrowed when he saw the unmistakable fear in his brother’s eyes.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, Dean?” Sam asked, setting down his pen, looking Dean up and down for any outward signs of harm. He didn’t see anything wrong but the way that Dean’s jaw was clenched tight and the way that he was staring down at his hand like he had suddenly grown another finger, something was wrong.

“Umm… I have words…” But just as quickly as the words appeared, they started to fade away like nothing was there in the first place. Dean frowned deeper, running his fingers over the back of his hand, pulling the skin taut.

However the longer that he stared, the words just completely disappeared.

“Dean?” Sam questioned again, looking down at his hand and then back up at Dean. 

“Umm… nevermind.” Dean mumbled back, still looking at his hand before he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought… I just thought that I saw something. It’s nothing. Sorry.” Still though, he couldn’t tear his attention away from the back of his hand. “I must be tired or something.”

Sam wasn’t buying it. There was obvious fear in Dean’s eyes when Dean had called his name so something had happened. But he didn’t push it.

“Maybe you should go to bed.” Sam suggested. They had had a hard couple of weeks. Hunt after hunt and they finally caught a break so Sam could understand if Dean was tired. Sleep sounded good but he needed to finish up the reading the book and taking notes. Another hunter asked for his help and he couldn’t just leave them high and dry. “Once I finish this, I was planning on going to bed.”

“Naw, I’m fine. I’ll…” Dean took a deep breath before shaking out his hand. “It’s nothing.”

Sam frowned, those dimples making their appearance before diving back into his book. The book wasn’t particularly interesting read. It was very dry and very hard to interpret what was being said. He was just ready for it to be over. He skimmed over the text, writing down the bits that jumped out at him. There were only a few pages left in the book when he read over something that made him remember something else that he had to look up. So he jotted it down on the back of his hand before returning to the book.

Dean yelped and jumped up from his seat, pushing the chair back.

Sam jumped at the abrupt movement and looked at Dean who was staring at the back of his hand again, eyes wide and yeah, he was scared.

“What wrong, Dean?” Sam asked again, pushing away from the table to come around to Dean’s side to see what was wrong with his hand. Except for the fact that Dean clutched his hand to his chest, keeping it covered like he didn’t want Sam to know what was happening to him.

“Nothing.” Dean muttered, not even really paying attention to Sam. He was backing away from the table and towards his room. “It’s nothing. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that he scurried away from the library and to his room before Sam could ever get close enough to see what had happened to his hand. But with the way that Dean was hiding it, Sam wasn’t too sure if he wanted to know.

Dean blamed it on him being tired. That’s the only reason why he was seeing words randomly appear on the back of his hand and then disappear just a few moments later. That’s all it was. He was at that point of exhaustion where he was seeing things that weren’t actually there. And, as crazy as it sounded, that was a little more reassuring than his hand being cursed. If he was just sleep deprived, then a good, solid sleep would fix everything.

Only, Dean should have known better than to put his faith in a good sleep. Yeah, sleep might help fix a lot of things but whatever was wrong with his hand was not because he was sleep deprived. There was something very wrong but for the most part… it seemed harmless.

Randomly, words would just start appearing out of nowhere. They didn’t hurt, he didn’t feel any different when the words appeared other than the fact that they were just there. Most of the time, he would catch them when they were just about faded away, not really able to make out the words that were written. Other times, he would catch himself staring at the back of his hand, just waiting for them to appear.

After he discovered that they weren’t dangerous, it became a mini obsession. The words didn’t really mean anything other than half finished sentences and single words that Dean figured were supposed to be small reminders. And after a while, Dean also figured out that they weren’t meant for him. They weren’t things that he needed to remember.

However, the nonchalance, mild curious attitude that he had towards the whole thing immediately disappeared the moment that his name suddenly popped up on the back of his hand.

It wasn’t a threatening message by any means of the imagination. All it said was  **_call dean_ ** before it disappeared but it still caused Dean’s heart to beat through his chest. Never before had he seen his own name.

Sam was out. He ran into town to check the P.O. box and get groceries since he claimed that Dean would purposely forget certain things that Sam wanted to eat. Of course, Dean denied it. He would never  _ purposely  _ forget anything. But, the cashier was cute and Dean couldn’t help himself to flirt just a little bit with her. And well, if he forgot to pick up the specific kind of vegetables that Sam wanted, he would always make a run to the store the next week so he could make his fucking smoothies.

Nevermind the fact that Dean actually did sometimes legitimately forget but if Sam thought he was doing it on purpose, he wasn’t about to correct him. There was no reason to give Sam another thing to make fun of him about. The constant ache in his bones were enough.

If Sam was home, then Dean would have gone to him then and there and confessed that there was something wrong with his hand. Had been for several weeks now except Sam wasn’t there which meant that he could either research why he all the sudden had words popping up on his skin or sit and wait in his room until Sam got back and watch for another slightly ominous message.

He decided that sitting around and waiting would only increase the nerves that had settled in his body so begrudgingly he dragged himself off his bed and walked into the library. But not before he snagged a beer from the fridge. There was no way that he was going to research some freaking hand curse completely sober.

Thanks to Sam’s meticulous organizing that he did when they first arrived in the Bunker, it was easy for Dean to find books on curses that were seemingly non-threatening. Of course, it wasn’t like Sam was going to have a book on hand curses bolded and highlighted in the card catalog so Dean had to dig a little deeper to find something that seemed to look like it was going to help him.

Soon he was sprawled out on the library table, buried in books that hadn’t had their spines cracked in ages, trying to find a reason as to what was going on with him.

He honest to god jumped when his phone rang and the message popped back in the forefront of Dean’s head. He had half the mind to keep his phone in his pocket and let it go to voicemail. However, he decided against it. When he took out his phone, he let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding when the caller ID said that it was Sam.

He answered the call, putting it on speaker before dropping it on a bare spot on the table.

“Lebanon Sperm Bank, you squeeze it, we freeze it. How may I help you?” Dean couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he answered the phone and he most certainly couldn’t keep the triumphant laugh when he heard Sam sigh, clearly annoyed.

“Dean.” Sam said, unamused and Dean could practically imagine those annoyed dimples appearing (not that Dean spent a lot of time thinking about Sam’s dimples… or even… noticing them. Just… he didn’t, alright).

“Oh, come on, Sammy. That was funny.” The silence was all Dean needed to know that Sam did not find it amusing. “Okay, what do you need? I’m in the middle of researching something.”

There was a pause on the phone, like Sam wasn’t expecting Dean to be doing that. “Researching? Why are you researching?”

Dean frowned down at the phone. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m not messing up what you’ve been working on.”

“That’s not what I was insinuating, Dean.” Sam sighed and he didn’t sound annoyed, just tired. There was  _ one _ time where Sam had misplaced a book that he was using and thought that Dean was fucking with him. Lo and behold, Dean wasn’t but Sam didn’t find out until  _ after _ he yelled at Dean not to mess with his stuff. So ever since that moment, Dean always made sure that Sam knew that he wasn’t messing with Sam’s research. The first couple of times Dean did that, it was fine but now, almost every time Sam calls or walks into the room, Dean says something like that and it gets tiresome after awhile.

“Well, I’m just trying to make sure that you know.”

Through the phone, Dean could practically hear Sam’s eyes rolling. “What are you researching, Dean? Did Leonard call again asking for more help? You do know that you can tell him to do some research on his own as opposed to relying on us all the time.”

“No, this isn’t for Leonard. Umm… it’s actually for me. It’s for a… a curse.” Dean said.

There was another pause on the phone and before Sam could scold him, Dean beat him to the punch.

“Whatever dirty, perverted thing you think I’m trying to do, Sam, I’m not. Alright. I actually think that I’m… cursed.”

“You’re… cursed?” Sam repeated. Leave it to his brother to start messing around with something in the Bunker and have some age old curse put on him. “What makes you think that you’re cursed, Dean? What did you get into?”

Dean huffed out another breath. Yeah, okay, sure, most of the times he got into stuff that he didn’t need to get into and that it could be dangerous but he hadn’t been cursed yet. And you can’t blame him for having a natural curiosity to learn what different things are.

“Well, first of all, I said that I  _ think _ I’m cursed and I didn’t get into anything, alright. But… words start appearing randomly on the back of my hand and before you ask, no, I am not writing on the back of my hand either. They’re just appearing… like out of nowhere. And they have been for a couple of weeks now. So…” He drawled out the word. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.”

“What kind of words are appearing on the back of your hand?” Dean could hear the rumble of the Impala start up in the background of the phone call.

“Normal words. English. I think that they’re reminders for someone. You know, like when you don’t have a piece of paper or anything around you so you just write it down on the back of your hand.”

“And you said that this has been going on for a couple of weeks now?”

“Yeah. Do you remember that night when you asked me about my hand and I wouldn’t let you see it?”

“You mean the night that you yelped like a little girl and ran off?”

“I did not yelp like a little girl.” Dean huffed, trying to preserve some of his dignity. It wasn’t a yelp it was a… a sudden intake of breath that was a little higher in pitch than normal. “But yeah, it was that night. That’s when I first noticed it.”

“And you’re just now researching it?”

“Well, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I wasn’t dying or anything and the words didn’t hurt me so I just left them be.”

“Okay.” Sam sighed. Keeping curses a secret was a big gamble to make. There was no telling when they would potentially turn sour. “So, why are you all of the sudden researching it now?”

“Because… today the message was kind of… ominous, I guess.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

“Are you going to tell me what it said or do you want me to start playing Hangman to figure it out?” Sam asked when Dean didn’t say anything else.

Dean wasn’t even going to indulge his brother in a retort for that. “It said  _ call dean _ .”

There was a brief pause and Dean seriously thought for a moment that Sam was going to start laughing, make fun of him for being so worried at those two little words but he was pleasantly surprised to find out that Sam wasn’t about to laugh.

“And you said that you think that the words are little reminders that someone would scribble on the back of their hand?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. But they’ve never had my name in them before.”

Sam chuckled to himself before the sound was cut off in his throat and it sounded as if he sobered up real quick. “You’re not cursed, Dean.” And then with that the call ended with a click.

Dean scoffed, looking down at the phone and a little pissed at Sam’s blatant amusement with whatever was happening with him. Sure, it might be easy for him to say that it wasn’t a curse but it also wasn’t on the back of his hand. The moment that Dean figured out what the hell was going on, he already made it up in his mind that he was going to give Sam the curse and see how much he likes it. Yeah, that’s what he was going to do. First he needed to find what was going on.

He barely even paid attention when numbers started to appear on his hand and if Dean cared enough to look at them closely, he would have seen that they were more than just random numbers. They were the filing system for the Bunker, it was how Sam organized the whole thing.

The door to the Bunker opened a little after half an hour from when Sam hung up the phone and Dean didn’t even look up to greet him. He was annoyed to say the least. The books that he was looking through were not helping him at all. There was nothing in there about freaky hand curses and frankly, he was a little pissed that Sam just brushed it off and then hung up the phone. And where he was coming from, his annoyance was completely justified.

Sam went to the kitchen and put up all the groceries and Dean hoped that Sam got the beer that he liked and not the healthy, gluten free shit that he tried to get Dean to drink and yes, there’s beer out there that’s made without any gluten. The guy who decided to ruin beer better have a good spot reserved in hell or Dean was going to have some choice words with Crowley.

Dean threw another book to the side and opened the next one, eyes nearly glazed over from learning about every other hand curse there was under the sun except the one that he was currently dealing with. He continuously ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck as he flipped the page.

Suddenly a beer was placed down in front of him and it was the good stuff. Dean looked up and Sam smiled down at him, walking around the table to take his respective spot across from Dean.

“What are you smiling for?” Dean asked, eyeing the beer that Sam was obviously trying to use as a peace offering. He had half the mind to not take it, to leave it there but it made no sense to leave a perfectly good beer to go to waste. So he took a sip of it but it sipped it with a frown.

“I think I know what’s going on with your hand.” Sam replied.

“Yeah?” Dean waited for Sam to continue but Sam didn’t. “You gonna share with the class or are you just going to leave me here to search through the rest of these books trying to figure out this curse?”

“It’s actually not a curse.” And with that Sam popped up from his seat. Dean watched as he walked over to one of the bookshelves and the motherfucker pulled down a book and flipped it immediately to the page he was looking for. He smiled as he walked back to the table and sat down. “There’s… there’s actually a legend that I read about somewhere. It has to deal with soulmates. According to the legend, one person writes on the back of their hand and their soulmate, they see it too. It looks like you have a soulmate, Dean.”

Dean just stared at Sam, not believing a word that he was saying. “Yeah, umm, you know what, I’ll just stick with the curse.”

Sam set down the book and looked up at Dean, a slight frown on his face. “You don’t believe that you could have a soulmate?”

“Let’s just say that I believe in Santa Claus more than I do in soulmates.” He set down his beer and scoffed. “I mean, come on, Sam, what are you smoking? Why the hell would you even think that I would have a soulmate? Me? You’re saying that some poor person out there is my soulmate. How did the universe fuck up that much?”

Sam’s face fell at the way that Dean just completely dismissed what he had said. That Dean would believe that lowly of himself that even his soulmate wouldn’t want him. Sam ran his hand over the page that was open, trying to keep back the way that it felt like suddenly his heart was being squeezed right there within his chest. If Dean found out everything that Sam knew about soulmates and his soulmate in particular, he was going to react even worse. There was no doubt about it.

“I… umm… I’ll help you find a way to get rid of it.” Sam said after a while, dragging his fingers back up the page.

It wasn’t the first time that Sam had come across the topic of soulmates. Ages ago when they were only dealing with angels that wanted to jumpstart the apocalypse, Ash had said that soulmates shared a heaven and well, when they died together, they showed up together in heaven but Sam wouldn’t allow himself to believe what Ash was trying to get at. Besides it was better to believe that it was all some plan cooked up by Zachariah to tear them apart. But now, there was undeniable proof on the back of Dean’s hand, on the back of  _ his _ hand and Dean wasn’t even going to humor the idea.

Suddenly, Dean reached out across the table and grabbed Sam’s hand. Sam jumped and tried to yank his hand back but Dean held on tight.

“What’s this?” Dean hissed, pulling Sam’s hand towards him causing Sam to be tugged forward across the table to where he was nearly laying on top of it.

“Nothing.” Sam blushed and once again yanked his his hand back but Dean grip was like iron. For a moment, he was actually worried that Dean might accidentally break some bones in his hand if he kept holding on as tight as he was.

“That’s exactly what was written across the back of my hand.” Dean said, running his fingers over the black ink that Sam had previously written on his skin. The dark  _ call dean _ that he scrawled there so that he wouldn’t forget when he got to the grocery store. He was going to make sure that there wasn’t anything else that Dean wanted from the store and sometimes he forgot to actually call.

And then Dean released his grip just slightly so he could look at the numbers that were written underneath his name. He didn’t pay that much attention to the numbers when he noticed them, hadn’t memorized them but they looked like what was on his hand.

Which meant…

“No.” Dean released Sam’s hand and pushed away from the table, his eyes wide, heart absolutely thudding through his chest. “No. That’s not… we’re not…  _ soulmates _ , are we Sam?” Dean nearly spit out the word and any hope Sam had that maybe Dean would share any feelings were crushed.

Because why would Dean? Why would Dean be fucked up like him? Dean was always the normal one of the family, in everything. He wouldn’t feel that way towards Sam. Dean had practically raised him to begin with. Dean only saw him as his little brother, his baby brother who was a pain in the ass and so fucked in the head.

“I’ll figure out a way to make it stop.” Sam said through a clenched jaw, looking down to pick up the book so that Dean couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “If… if you need me, I’ll be in my room. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Sam scurried off.

Sam might think that he hid the tears for Dean but Dean knew everything about Sam’s body. Knew it like he knew his own. He knew that Sam was trying to keep from crying. He knew that he was failing at it.

He knew that he had pushed away the only thing that the universe had given him that was good.

Slowly Dean put back all the books that he had gotten out, exactly where he found them. It was the least he could do. He sipped on his beer that Sam had brought him but it tasted like sand in his mouth.

***

Nothing was the same anymore, between the two of them and Dean can’t help but feel like it was his fault. The more he thought about it, the more time he had to process the fact that soulmates might actually be a thing and that Sam might be  _ his _ soulmate, the more that things started to make sense.

It was as the universe was looking out for him, giving him something that he could hold onto when his entire life he didn’t have anything. Sure, he had the car and Dad was there for a while but it was as if the universe just knew all those things were going to disappear at one point or another. But it gave him Sam and Sam always came back to him. Through everything, Sam always came back.

Dean wanted to talk to Sam but he didn’t even know where to start.

_ Hey, Sammy, I know that you’re my brother and all but I think that I like this idea of us being soulmates. Wanna fuck? _

It didn’t happen that way and besides, the way that Sam was purposely avoiding him now, it was clear that Sam didn’t want to have to do anything with Dean anymore.

Slowly they started to drift apart. Sam started to eat in his room more and more which meant that Dean sat alone in the library, feet up on the table. He wouldn’t admit it but he missed when Sam would come in and slap his feet off the table, saying that the table was not a footrest. Dean would only prop his feet back up and Sam would scoff and try not to smile.

When he really thought about it, he missed his brother. To the very core of his being, he just missed being around his brother. He missed the joking and the teasing and the occasional prank war. He missed having Sam around. It didn’t feel right to be without him. His entire life, Sam was there like a second shadow and now, Dean felt like Peter Pan when his shadow ran away. He was desperately chasing after it.

Dean found a case. A simple one compared to some of the cases that they had taken recently and he asked Sam if he wanted to go out with him, take care of this simple salt n’ burn. He was scared that Sam wouldn’t want to, that he would stay locked up in his room and stay there, leaving Dean alone. He needed his hunting partner back.

But Sam agreed to go and Dean didn’t even have to subtly beg.

The hunt was too easy and Dean was really looking forward to shooting something, relieve the stress of everything that had happened but the most interesting thing that happened was him standing three foot in a grave, his back to his brother, digging it up.

And Sam hadn’t said a damn word to him that wasn’t related to the case. And even then, it was one or two words, half sentences. He even got two rooms when they checked into the crappy motel they would be staying at.

“I can leave.” Sam finally said, breaking the silence that Dean had become accustomed to. It was shocking how much he  _ missed  _ his brother’s voice.

The dam inside of Sam finally broke because he couldn’t do it anymore. He thought that he could pretend that it didn’t hurt whenever he was around Dean. He thought that he could wait for Dean to come around to the realization that they were soulmates and then try to forget about it. Sam didn’t like that idea but he could live with it because it meant that he would have his brother back. He thought that he could pretend that everything was alright but he was so damn tired of pretending. It had been weeks since Sam told him that they were soulmates and still Dean was as closed off as ever.

If Dean wanted to be his brother again, he would have at least said something by now.

Dean froze, the words shocking him. Sam turned, looking at the frozen form of his brother who still had his back towards him, hunched over, about to throw another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, Dean straightened, and turned to face Sam, his eyes wide, confused, looking so scared.

Looking as if what Sam said wasn’t even a possibility that crossed his mind.

“What?” Dean breathed out, so quiet that Sam wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for the fact that he heard everything his brother said, needed to hear every intake of breath, every word.

He needed to hear everything, even that obvious rejection that caused this riff between the two of them.

“I mean, after this case is, you know, finished.” Sam stuttered, gripping the shovel tighter in his hand because Dean was suddenly looking at him with an expression that Sam couldn’t read and that scared him more than anything. He used to always be able to read his brother, know what he was thinking from just a look but now, Dean’s face was emotionless. Cold almost.

Either that or Sam had slowly forgotten what his brother looked like over the past few weeks while Dean tried to forget about him.

“I can get out of you hair. Leave you alone. Leave the Bunker. It won’t be that hard to find a place and I mean, the Bunker was always more your home than mine. If that’s what…”

But then Dean grabbed a hold of Sam’s shirt and yanked Sam down to his level because like hell was Dean going to stand up on his tippy-toes to kiss Sam.

And just like that they were kissing, Dean’s hand twisted in the fabric of Sam’s shirt, still pulling him down even further and Sam was pliant underneath Dean’s hold. They kissed like they were made to do just this, fit together and be with one another.

The Dean was gone, just like that. “You’re not leaving.” Dean muttered, turning back around to finish digging the grave, body tense and still just as closed off as it was before.

Sam was going to get whiplash because Dean had kissed him and then acted like nothing had happened. Dean had honest to god kiss him and he didn’t  kiss him in that way of  _ oh my gosh, why am i doing this. i’m going to be sick afterwards  _ kind of way. Dean actually kissed him and now… now he was back to shoveling dirt.

“Dean…” Sam tried, his voice wavering in the dark and Dean didn’t respond. Just the sound of Earth being split open by the shovel answered him back. “Dean, will you…”

“Goddamnit, Sam.” Dean exclaimed, turning back to face Sam but there was no anger in his face. Instead there was a dopey little smile that Sam knew Dean was going to deny later and dirt over his eyebrow like he had wiped away sweat with the back of his hand. “Not everything needs to be discussed. Besides, you said that we were soulmates. The universe decided to discuss it for us. Now, hurry up and help me finish this grave. I would rather not get arrested for grave desecration.”

And as if he was going to emphasis the point, Dean pressed another short kiss to Sam’s lips before he turned back to digging, this time with more urgency.

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief because how? How could Dean just brush something off like that? That kiss, the declaration that he wasn’t leaving, the fact that he admitted they were soulmates and sounded pretty damn okay about it? That needed to be talked about. That needed to be discussed and…

Sam felt like screaming but then again that was his brother. That was his stupid, beautiful brother. Why talk about it when you can just avoid feeling all together and just go with the flow. That worked.

Sam needed to try it out sometime.

“I can feel you thinking, Sam.” Dean voice broke the night air again, this time softer. “Just stop alright. There ain’t nothing to be thinking about.”

Sam looked at his brother, for just a little while longer, seeing the way that Dean’s muscles worked under his sweat drenched shirt and he smiled to himself because Dean was right. There was nothing to talk about. There was nothing else to do than dig the rest of the grave, drive back to the motel and continue on with life as if nothing ever changed.

Because, in reality, nothing ever really did change. They had been soulmates their whole life.

It was just now they were realizing it.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thoughts, comments and opinions are always welcomed. 
> 
> "if comments be the food of writing, comment on."


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